


Deep and Crisp and Even

by groolover



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boxing Day, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groolover/pseuds/groolover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The legend of Good King Wenceslas may have begun with Arthur Pendragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep and Crisp and Even

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a Merlin/Arthur story before, although I've read _hundreds_. Last week, though, I sang "Good King Wenceslas" in a carol concert, and was struck by how much it reminded me of Arthur and Merlin, and then I remembered having exactly the same thought during _last_ year's carol concert. But I don't remember ever seeing it done before. So, this isn't the least bit creative or original, but I felt the urge to write it down, if only to get it out of my head. And, although it's not _quite_ still St Stephen's Day where I am, it was when I started writing this, and this is definitely a Boxing Day story.
> 
> In my head, this is set sometime in season 5, but (obviously) before the finale.

**Deep and Crisp and Even**

Arthur stood at the window of his bedchambers, lost in thought. Gwen had gone out to visit the lower quarter of the city, worried that the people there might be struggling to cope with the cold: the whole of Camelot, as far as the eye could see, was covered in a thick layer of snow which had fallen overnight. Arthur had, of course, offered to accompany his queen, but she'd insisted that it was unnecessary; she was escorted by Leon, and promised to send for Arthur if there was a major problem.

Arthur was restless, though, and was determined to come up with a practical strategy for ensuring that none of his people died of cold. This sudden freeze had taken them all by surprise; even Gaius couldn't remember a winter as cold as this.

As Arthur gazed out of the window, something caught his eye in the distance. A black speck was moving along the tree line, far across the snowy landscape. Arthur peered for several minutes before concluding that it might actually be a human being rather than an animal.

"Merlin!" he yelled.

Merlin sprang through the door a minute later, and Arthur found himself wondering, not for the first time, whether his servant had been waiting right outside. This seemed unlikely, given the extra duties he had with Gaius, but it was uncanny how often he seemed to manage to be within earshot.

"Yes, Sire?"

"Come over here and tell me if you can see anything," ordered Arthur. Merlin crossed the room to his side. 

"I can see... a king with too much time on his hands?" ventured Merlin. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Out of the _window_ , Merlin," Arthur said, exasperated. "I thought I could see someone over by the trees."

Merlin stared out of the window, scanning the moonlit horizon, while Arthur followed his gaze.

"There," said Merlin suddenly. "You're right, there is someone. I think they're collecting wood."

"Who d'you think it might be? I didn't think anyone lived between here and Ealdor. It surely can't be anyone from Camelot, can it?"

"I doubt it. The guards at the gates would have advised them to stay within the walls. And they all know you've instructed the servants to give firewood to anyone who asks for it, until the snow's gone. No, I think it might be old Peter."

"Peter? You know him?"

"Not very well, but I _have_ met him a few times," said Merlin. "He lives alone on the edge of the Forest of Ascetir, in a cave under a hill. He makes his living by catching fish and selling them in the Camelot market."

"But why does he stay out there, rather than within the city walls?" wondered Arthur. "It seems a bit of a lonely existence."

"I know, but he always seems happy enough with it," said Merlin. "I suppose some people just prefer a bit of peace and quiet."

"Be that as it may, I want to check that he's safe," said Arthur. "Go and get some food and drink. Enough to last him for a few days. Oh, and some firewood, in case he's not been able to find anything dry. And go and put some more clothes on. You can't go out in this weather with just that threadbare jacket."

Merlin raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Yes, Sire," he said, and vanished from the room.

By the time Merlin returned, Arthur had changed into his warmest boots and put on an extra shirt. He was taking his fur-lined cloak from the wardrobe when Merlin came in and stared at him.

"You've... got changed. All on your own," he said. "I didn't actually know you _could_ do that."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I find I can somehow summon the knowledge when time is of the essence," he said. "Speaking of getting changed, though, I see you have two large packs but no actual extra clothes."

"I don't _have_ any extra clothes," Merlin told him. "Why d'you think I wear the same things all the time?"

Arthur looked at him, puzzled. "Why have you never said so before?" he demanded.

"Because it's not really a problem," said Merlin. "I have two lots of everything, so I have something to wear if the other set is being washed. But I don't usually have enough to wear anything extra. Don't worry, though, I'll be fine." 

Arthur glared. "Nonsense," he said. "I will not have my personal manservant freezing to death while on duty. Here, put this on." He pulled out his second-best cloak and handed it to Merlin, who looked startled.

"I can't wear your clothes, Arthur! What will people say?!"

"They won't say anything, because they're unlikely to see us. And, even if they do, I'm the king, remember? I can do what I like. Now put it on and let's get going."

Merlin gave in, and they left the bedchamber. Merlin turned right when they reached the castle entrance, heading for the stables, but Arthur stopped him.

"No horses," he said. "They don't cope well with the snow. We'll have to go on foot."

Merlin winced but nodded. "Give me a minute to rearrange these bags, then," he said. "They're not _that_ heavy, but they're awkward. They'll be easier to carry if I split the firewood between the two bags – then I can have one on each shoulder."

"I could..." began Arthur, but Merlin shook his head.

"No, Sire. I'm fine, honestly," he said. "You've already lent me a cloak. I can't have you carrying a bag as well. Besides, you're the one with the sword. Not much point if you can't use it because you're carrying other stuff."

Arthur grinned. "I'll have you know that I could still beat most people even if I was carrying both bags," he said. "And I'm not expecting to encounter many enemies in a snowstorm. But, very well. Let's get going."

They made good progress at first: even though the snow was up to their knees, it was fairly soft and easy to walk through. Merlin kept up a stream of constant chatter about what various people had done at the Christmas feast the previous day, and Arthur smiled fondly; he would never admit it to his servant, but he always loved hearing about his people having fun.

Within an hour of them leaving the castle gate, however, the weather took a turn for the worse, and Merlin gradually stopped talking, mainly because every time he opened his mouth it filled with snow. The flakes were no longer falling vertically; they were flying horizontally, driven by a howling gale. When Arthur looked back to see why the chatter had stopped, he was alarmed to find that Merlin was nowhere to be seen. Frantically, he retraced his steps; even this was difficult now, because clouds had covered the moon, and the available light was drastically reduced. Arthur cursed himself for not having lit a torch before setting out; then he almost tripped over Merlin, who was lying in the snow.

"Sorry," said Merlin, sounding alarmingly weak. "I fell. Just give me a second – I'll be fine."

Arthur watched as his servant sat up. It looked for a moment as if Merlin's eyes glowed gold, but that was probably a reflection from the snow. What was _less_ obvious was why Merlin suddenly looked panicked. What could possibly have caused such a stricken look, when he was still sitting on the ground? Whatever it was, it resulted in Merlin struggling to stand, and immediately falling down again.

Arthur held out his hand. "Come on," he said. "We'd better get moving before you freeze to death."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," said Merlin, his teeth clattering together. "I don't think I can. You go on ahead, and I'll catch up to you when I've had a bit of a rest."

"Even _you're_ not usually _that_ stupid, Merlin, so I'm going to assume your brain has been addled by the blizzard," said Arthur, pulling him upright. "I'm not leaving you here, even if I have to carry you. Listen, we must be almost at the forest by now, even though we can't see it, so it won't be much longer. When we get there we can start a fire until we can find this Peter fellow. Can you hang on till then, or _do_ I need to carry you?"

"I'll try," said Merlin. "I'm just so _cold_ , it feels impossible to move. I'm sorry. I thought I'd be alright, but I hadn't realised my m... I hadn't realised how much the cold would affect me."

" _I'm_ sorry for bringing you out here in a snowstorm," said Arthur. "I should have given you more clothes. I will, when we get back. But let's just see if we can find this fisherman first. Will you be able to find his cave when we get nearby?"

"I think so," said Merlin. "I'm more worried about losing _you_. I can hardly see you, even though you're right next to me. How do you know we're still heading towards the forest?"

"I don't, really," admitted Arthur. "But I think we are. The feeling of the wind is slightly different in this direction, and I'm choosing to believe that it's because of the trees. I'm annoyed that we didn't light a torch before we left. But you're usually pretty good at getting a fire going whatever the weather, so it didn't occur to me."

"I'm sorry about that, too," said Merlin, forlornly. " _I'd_ assumed I'd be able to get a fire going, but I don't think I can at the moment. I'll try when we reach the forest. _If_ we reach the forest."

"We _will_ reach the forest – I guarantee it," Arthur told him. "I've got an idea, though. Walk right behind me and put your hands on my waist. It'll be a bit slower, but it'll at least stop us getting separated. And if you walk in my footsteps, there'll be less snow there, so you might be a _bit_ less frozen."

There was just enough light for him to see that Merlin looked very uncomfortable at this suggestion, but he nodded and moved behind Arthur, tentatively placing his hands on Arthur's waist. Immediately, Arthur realised that Merlin was shivering violently and uncontrollably.

"Let's get going," Arthur said, worried.

They began a slow shuffle in the direction that Arthur was praying was the correct one. He was reassured by the physical contact with Merlin, while remaining quietly frantic with concern. He had never seen Merlin this weak, and resolved to investigate the matter of servants' clothes in general when they returned.

After a few minutes, though, he realised that Merlin's shaking had lessened. 

"How are you getting on back there?" he asked.

"Not bad," came the reply. "In fact... well, no, it's impossible."

"What's impossible?"

"Well, don't laugh, but... It feels as if the ground is warm where you've just stood on it."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That _was_ kind of the point of my suggestion, if you recall – there'd be less snow for you to stand on if you walked in my footprints."

"No! It's not just that. It actually feels as if the ground is warm. Not just _less cold_. But, like I said, it's impossible." 

Merlin was sounding a lot less frail, though, so it didn't really matter what nonsense he was spouting, Arthur decided. He lengthened his strides slightly, hoping to reach the forest as soon as possible. Merlin's hands tightened at his waist, and Arthur was surprised to find how much this lifted his own mood.

Half an hour later, Arthur walked headfirst into a tree. 

"Ow," he said, rubbing his forehead. "But, look! We made it!"

Merlin reached out to feel Arthur's bump. "That'll hurt, tomorrow," he said. "I'll make you a poultice for it."

Arthur looked at him carefully. "You seem brighter," he commented. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," said Merlin. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really think your footprints healed me."

Arthur grinned. "Of course they did," he said. "I must add that to my list of accomplishments, to be read out at the next feast day."

"Mock all you like," said Merlin. "I'm grateful, however it happened. It's up to you whether or not you take the credit."

"If you want to give me credit, I'm happy to accept," said Arthur. "It's not as if you _usually_ admit I can do anything useful. Anyway, where's this cave? Or do you want to try and make a fire first?"

"No, I'm fine now," said Merlin. "Let's find old Peter and make a fire for _him_ , shall we? This way, I think."

The cave turned out to be fairly close by, and the fisherman was inside. He did have a very small fire going just inside the entrance, but the curtain of leaves that served as his door was not doing much to keep the cold out, and he was shivering so violently that he fell over when he tried to jump up, as he saw Arthur and Merlin.

"Sire!" he gasped, after Arthur had helped him to his feet. "What are you doing here? Did you get cut off from the castle? You're very welcome to take shelter with me until the storm passes, of course. I haven't got much to offer you, though, but..."

"Peter, is it?" asked Arthur, shaking his hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you. And I thank you for your kind offer of hospitality. We _would_ be grateful of some shelter until the weather improves, but the reason we're here is because of you."

"The King saw you from his window and was worried that you might have no food or firewood," explained Merlin. "He insisted on coming out himself to see that you were alright."

Peter gaped for quite a while before recovering his voice. "But you're the King," he said faintly. "You shouldn't be spending your time on the likes of _me_."

"I believe that there's nothing more important than for me to help my people any way I can," said Arthur gently. "Now, are you hungry? We've brought food and wine."

Peter nodded, obviously still bewildered. "Thank you," he said fervently. "Thank you, Sire. You are a good man. And a great king."

"Thank _you_ ," said Arthur, smiling. "Merlin, let's get some more wood on this fire."

"Yes, Sire," said Merlin, opening one of his satchels. 

*****

Within a few minutes, the fire was blazing and Peter was seated next to his king, happily devouring a hunk of chicken while explaining what sort of fish he caught and where. Merlin took the opportunity to slip outside unnoticed. 

" _Forbearnan_ ," he said, stretching out his hand. 

A nearby branch caught fire, and Merlin extinguished it, dizzy with relief. 

"I hope you are feeling better now," said a high-pitched voice nearby.

Merlin whirled round, to see a small blue winged creature fluttering by a tree.

"Sidhe," he breathed. "Was it you? Did you take my magic away?"

"Not I," said the creature. "Nor any other that I know of. We believe the cause was merely your own human vulnerability to cold."

"Then... you fixed me?" asked Merlin, surprised. "Forgive me for misjudging you, if so. I have not encountered many friendly Sidhe."

"We did not 'fix' you, as you say," said the Sidhe. "We did, however, enchant your companion so that his feet did indeed have the power you believed."

Merlin stared at the creature. "Not that I'm not grateful, but... why would you do that? Why would you help us? Why are you even _here_?"

"We are drawn to those who are beautiful and wealthy, and your companion is both," the Sidhe explained. "We are often near him, although we do not show ourselves. We approved of his selfless actions today, however, and we wanted to reward him. The method we chose was one that rewarded _you_ as well, and all the Sidhe know how deserving you are of reward."

"Me?" said Merlin, taken aback. "I thought the Sidhe all hated me!"

"The Sidhe do not hate anyone. We merely react forcefully when others interfere with our plans. We realised, after our unfortunate encounters with you in the past, that you are stronger than we had anticipated, and that your aims are similar to ours. We therefore agreed that we would help you if it ever became necessary."

Merlin digested this. "Well, I appreciate it," he said eventually. "And, if we ever get to the stage when I can be open about my magic, I will make sure Arthur knows what you did today. Thank you."

"We did not have to do very much, in fact," said the Sidhe. "Your companion is filled with a deep desire to protect you. We merely brought it to the surface."

"Yes, that's definitely Arthur," agreed Merlin. "Protector of all."

"Not _all_ ," said the creature. "You, in particular. His soul is bonded to yours. Were you not aware?"

At that moment, the curtain of leaves shifted and Arthur stepped out of the cave, causing the Sidhe to disappear.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, coming to Merlin's side. "You've been out here for ages. Is all well?"

"All is _very_ well," said Merlin. "Thank you. For me, _and_ for Peter. You've done a good thing here tonight."

Arthur slung an arm round Merlin's shoulders. "I couldn't have done it without _you_ ," he said. "Come inside and have some wine. Then we'd better get some rest before we set off back to the castle. I've persuaded Peter to come with us, just until the weather improves."

Merlin smiled, enjoying the comforting weight of Arthur's arm. "That's good," he said, and then lapsed into a comfortable silence as they went back inside.


End file.
